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Restaurants: Terra Vergine and In Parma, London Restaurants: Terra Vergine and In Parma, London
(4 months later)
The UK's passion for Italian food has recently been dented by spicier interlopers. Love is further chipped away by ready meals (do bugger off, Dolmio), 15-minute midweek suppers and the likes of Bella Italia. There are often queues of actual Italians outside London branches of this dull chain, allowing that deliciously chauvinistic race to head home reassured that we have no idea about food. I am tempted to get swivel-eyed on their asses. It's not like they even get the Nectar points.The UK's passion for Italian food has recently been dented by spicier interlopers. Love is further chipped away by ready meals (do bugger off, Dolmio), 15-minute midweek suppers and the likes of Bella Italia. There are often queues of actual Italians outside London branches of this dull chain, allowing that deliciously chauvinistic race to head home reassured that we have no idea about food. I am tempted to get swivel-eyed on their asses. It's not like they even get the Nectar points.
But there are glimmers of a bite-back. Rather than homogenous, non-specific "Italians" (there's no such thing as "Italian" food, of course: there's Ligurian or Aostan or Sardinian…), more and more restaurants are concentrating on one regional cuisine. Here's Terra Vergine, celebrating the cooking of the Abruzzo.But there are glimmers of a bite-back. Rather than homogenous, non-specific "Italians" (there's no such thing as "Italian" food, of course: there's Ligurian or Aostan or Sardinian…), more and more restaurants are concentrating on one regional cuisine. Here's Terra Vergine, celebrating the cooking of the Abruzzo.
My experience of this mountainous area's produce is pretty much limited to Montepulciano wine, so this is something genuinely new to me. The owner has restaurants in Chieti, and – laughing in the face of localism – flies everything in. To be fair, I'm not sure where you'd get castrated lamb for the arrosticini anywhere within staggering distance of the M25. These are a bit of a sensation, too. Cooked on a specially designed grill that twirls them slowly over smoke, perfuming the air as thoroughly as any ocakbasi, they are skewers of meat with an intense flavour, inching towards the pungency of good mutton. More hogget than lamb, I'd guess. Chunks of fat add smoky lubrication and they're generously salted and served, loads of them, in an earthenware jug with only pan'unto (Abruzzo's take on crostini) as accompaniment. Prissily, I prise the chunks from the skewers with my fork, only to be told off by the heartthrob manager: "Eat them with your teeth!" he orders. Meat hits scarlet lipstick and I wind up looking like the Joker. Given that our fellow diners are Berlusconis shoehorned into skintight jeans with junior, spike-heeled molls, nobody notices.My experience of this mountainous area's produce is pretty much limited to Montepulciano wine, so this is something genuinely new to me. The owner has restaurants in Chieti, and – laughing in the face of localism – flies everything in. To be fair, I'm not sure where you'd get castrated lamb for the arrosticini anywhere within staggering distance of the M25. These are a bit of a sensation, too. Cooked on a specially designed grill that twirls them slowly over smoke, perfuming the air as thoroughly as any ocakbasi, they are skewers of meat with an intense flavour, inching towards the pungency of good mutton. More hogget than lamb, I'd guess. Chunks of fat add smoky lubrication and they're generously salted and served, loads of them, in an earthenware jug with only pan'unto (Abruzzo's take on crostini) as accompaniment. Prissily, I prise the chunks from the skewers with my fork, only to be told off by the heartthrob manager: "Eat them with your teeth!" he orders. Meat hits scarlet lipstick and I wind up looking like the Joker. Given that our fellow diners are Berlusconis shoehorned into skintight jeans with junior, spike-heeled molls, nobody notices.
There's wild boar pasta "alla chitarra", cut on guitar-like wires so that the strands have squared edges, the ragù slow-cooked and honking with wine and herbs. Pallotte cac'e ove are squelchy little balls of fried cheese topped with rich tomato sauce and wafers of truffled caciotta cheese – a collection of several kinds of loveliness. Servings are huge, especially "sagne" pasta with chickpeas and pappardelle with spicy rabbit.There's wild boar pasta "alla chitarra", cut on guitar-like wires so that the strands have squared edges, the ragù slow-cooked and honking with wine and herbs. Pallotte cac'e ove are squelchy little balls of fried cheese topped with rich tomato sauce and wafers of truffled caciotta cheese – a collection of several kinds of loveliness. Servings are huge, especially "sagne" pasta with chickpeas and pappardelle with spicy rabbit.
The menu's rarely less than an adventure. More so than the decor, which is a very Italian idea of contemporary: hard-surfaced chic with copper jug lampshades, and pride of place given to display cases of spendy vino Abruzzese. There's a saying that if you have a chef from Abruzzo, your restaurant will not fail. I see where they're coming from.The menu's rarely less than an adventure. More so than the decor, which is a very Italian idea of contemporary: hard-surfaced chic with copper jug lampshades, and pride of place given to display cases of spendy vino Abruzzese. There's a saying that if you have a chef from Abruzzo, your restaurant will not fail. I see where they're coming from.
Farther north, in both Italian and London terms, is another small outfit that's ploughing its own furrow. A red Berkel meat slicer and dangling charcuterie give hints to the provenance. In Parma is largely concerned with cheese and salumi. The meats arrive sliced as finely as raw filo, silky and ripe, lapping over the large boards they're served on. Cheeses – fontina, robbiola and, of course, parmigiano – are perfectly kept, and there are vinegary little borettane onions for wrapping in fatty coppa, fleshy bresaola or majestic culatello di Zibello.Farther north, in both Italian and London terms, is another small outfit that's ploughing its own furrow. A red Berkel meat slicer and dangling charcuterie give hints to the provenance. In Parma is largely concerned with cheese and salumi. The meats arrive sliced as finely as raw filo, silky and ripe, lapping over the large boards they're served on. Cheeses – fontina, robbiola and, of course, parmigiano – are perfectly kept, and there are vinegary little borettane onions for wrapping in fatty coppa, fleshy bresaola or majestic culatello di Zibello.
These, with bowls (called fojete) of dry, lightly fizzy red Lambrusco Monte Delle Vigne and some first-rate focaccia, would make an excellent meal, but we persevere with the homemade pasta: delicate parcels of herbed ricotta in sage butter, and, yes, lasagne – a damned fine version, too, creamy and scented with nutmeg. In Parma is run by an outfit called Food Roots – manned entirely, I suspect, by the animated, curly-haired chap hairdrying the customers with his enthusiasm – dedicated to PDO (protected designation of origin) food from small producers. The quality shines like the blades of that Berkel. If you will persist in frequenting cookie-cutter "Italians", you've only yourself to blame for a cooling of affections. After this attractive duo, I feel positively starry-eyed again.These, with bowls (called fojete) of dry, lightly fizzy red Lambrusco Monte Delle Vigne and some first-rate focaccia, would make an excellent meal, but we persevere with the homemade pasta: delicate parcels of herbed ricotta in sage butter, and, yes, lasagne – a damned fine version, too, creamy and scented with nutmeg. In Parma is run by an outfit called Food Roots – manned entirely, I suspect, by the animated, curly-haired chap hairdrying the customers with his enthusiasm – dedicated to PDO (protected designation of origin) food from small producers. The quality shines like the blades of that Berkel. If you will persist in frequenting cookie-cutter "Italians", you've only yourself to blame for a cooling of affections. After this attractive duo, I feel positively starry-eyed again.
• Terra Vergine 442 King's Road, London SW10, 020-7352 0491. Open all week, Mon 6-11pm, Tues-Sat noon-11pm, Sun noon-10.30pm. About £40 a head plus drinks and service.• Terra Vergine 442 King's Road, London SW10, 020-7352 0491. Open all week, Mon 6-11pm, Tues-Sat noon-11pm, Sun noon-10.30pm. About £40 a head plus drinks and service.
Food 7/10
Atmosphere 6/10
Value for money 7/10		Food 7/10
Atmosphere 6/10
Value for money 7/10
• In Parma 10 Charlotte Place, London W1, 020-8127 4277. Open Mon-Fri 11am-3pm, 6-11pm, Sat noon-4pm, 6-11.30pm. About £30 a head plus drinks and service.• In Parma 10 Charlotte Place, London W1, 020-8127 4277. Open Mon-Fri 11am-3pm, 6-11pm, Sat noon-4pm, 6-11.30pm. About £30 a head plus drinks and service.
Food 7/10
Atmosphere 7/10
Value for money 7/10		Food 7/10
Atmosphere 7/10
Value for money 7/10
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